


The Topher Experience

by Slim Shady (NoraPenblood)



Category: Total Drama
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Drunk Chris, Gore, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoraPenblood/pseuds/Slim%20Shady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris gets drunk and then gets beat up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Topher Experience

**Author's Note:**

> Haha this probably is gonna get redone. Whose to say.

Chris wasn't in the habit of drinking with the members of the show, especially not with creepy kids who were trying to emulate him. However, he was also not in the habit of turning down a few drinks if he was offered. What kind of host would he be to deny the kid a few answers from his idol, after all? Of course, he would be the only one drinking so long as the cameras were around. God knew he didn't need that fucking lawsuit.  
As it was he'd apparently gotten incredibly, incredibly fucking drunk because the last thing he could recall was clutching at Topher's shoulder and whispering that he was a good kid, even though he kept trying to touch his ass.

Topher hadn't really expected the old guy to get that drunk, but it only helped his plan along. He'd only had to get him talking about himself enough and there he was, draining martini glasses like they were nonrenewable resources and he had to get every last one. When Chris had finally passed out on the couch, he'd sat there beside him, watching him snore for a little while. 

It was only once he was sure he was truly out that he moved closer, carefully straddling him so he was sitting on his stomach and looking down at him. God, what an opportunity! He was so close to the man himself, Chris McLean. Close enough to touch him, close enough to lean down and lick him... And that was just what he did - a wicked, entirely unhinged smile spreading on his face before he leaned down and licked his cheek, humming as he felt the heat from his skin, the slight taste of sweat there, his stubble prickling his chin.  
He let out a soft laugh, a giggle really, something that probably would've had security called immediately had Chris been in a less prone state. As it was, he just grumbled and shifted, turning his head away from the offending sensation. He was awash in a sea of gin and vermouth, dreaming of disjointed things that floated idly by. Topher slid both hands up his chest, wrapping long fingers around the older man's throat and feeling his breath as it was pulled in and out. He could even feel his pulse if he pressed just so, and he did, he pressed down on his windpipe until Chris choked, making a desperate, hollow sound. His hazy, red eyes came half-open, blinking blearily up at the kid sitting on his chest.  
He didn't really say anything, only furrowing his brows. Topher grinned at him, showing him his teeth before whispering, "I'm newer and a lot stronger, old man. Just go back to sleep." Chris seemed perplexed by this, too inebriated to really grasp the context of the cottony words he was hearing. He grunted, clumsily pawing at Topher's hands, protesting their placement at his throat. It made him feel vulnerable and he did not like that, even as out of it as he was. 

The kid rolled his eyes, sliding one hand higher to grip his jaw and force his head back against the cushion. "You are pretty hot for an old guy, ya know? I mean, not as hot as I am, but you might've been close when you were younger." He dug in his fingernails, leaving red marks against his skin, making Chris wince a little. "Are you jealous of me, Chris? Don't you wish you were me, huh? Maybe then you wouldn't be on the verge of getting fired..." 

He laughed again when Chris grimaced, reaching into the back pocket of his tight jeans and drawing out a thin pocket knife. God knew how he'd snuck that onto set, but it wasn't really like the interns who did security checks were ever all that thorough, anyway. He released Chris's face, rolling his eyes when he started dozing off again, opening the knife and pressing it against his cheek, pushing just hard enough to draw a thin trickle of blood. 

Chris woke up at that, flinching away from the sharp pain and narrowing his eyes, trying very hard to get a grip on what was going on. "Wh.. Th'fuck?" He raised a hand to his face, feeling the blood smear on his fingers. Topher offered him a smile and wiggled the blade in front of his face. 

"See this? It's for you, did you know? I got it for self defense, originally... A guy as hot as me gets a lot of threats, yanno!" He leans down again, nudging Chris's stained fingers away so he can press at the slight injury, irritating it just so he could see him bleed again. "Man, you look good like that... I bet I can make you look even better."  
Chris didn't understand exactly what the hell that meant, but he didn't expect it to be good. He leaned back as best as he could, which is to say, not at all, and tried to get Topher off of him, bucking his hips some. 

"What are you even doing, Chris? You're gonna break your hip or something." He laughs again, setting the knife on the back of the couch and gripping his jaw once more. He looks down at him, into those hazy, panicked eyes, and punches him right in the face. He doesn't break anything but Chris cries out pathetically, the skin around his eye already swelling and turning purple.  
"Look at that, now... Gonna be hard to cover that up with makeup." He hit him again, right in the nose this time. He didn't like the fact that he was scuffing up his own knuckles but well, it was a labor of love. He had to show Chris how he felt and clearly, clearly this was the right way to do it. To prove all of his convoluted points. 

Chris was bewildered, without a doubt. He held up his hands in front of his face, attempting to block the kid from fucking up his face any further. His nose was burning, blood running down his face and trying to work its way into the back of his throat. He sat up slightly to keep from gagging on it, gasping for breath. "Stop, Toph, wh'the fuck?" He held a hand over his gushing, broken nose, trying again to shove the kid out of his lap.  
Topher scooted back just enough to let Chris sit up, watching rapturously as blood ran down his chin and stained his rumbled shirt. It was perfect, the same kind of thing he'd dreamt about for ages now. He reached up, tracing his fingers through it and grinning at him. "Now this," he laughed, smearing it over his Adam's apple, "this is a good look for you."

Chris whined, shoving at him and leaving a blood-smeared handprint on the front of the younger man's shirt. Topher did not like that. For one, he didn't enjoy being pushed. Not to mention, it broke apart a piece of his fantasy, killed the idea that Chris clearly wanted this, deep down. This was how he was showing his adoration, after all! And Chris was nothing if not vain. 

He hit him again, stepping clumsily out of his lap and off the couch, grabbing his knife once more. Chris deserved this! He was great, sure, but he had clearly overstayed his welcome. He was old news, Topher was where the real money was. And he'd show him! He'd show everyone.  
Chris eyed the knife warily, still fuzzy from how much he'd drank. He tried to press back against the sofa, his tone muffled and nasally through his broken nose, hand still clasped to his face. "Hey now, kid, don' do anythin' stupid, now..." 

He shook his head, smiling that same mad smile - crooked and dangerous as a snake - before he pulled back the knife and slashed forward, albeit clumsily. Chris screamed, cringing away in an attempt to save himself any kind of major damage. It just happened to be the move that saved his life. The knife, which was aiming pretty neatly for his throat, connected with his shoulder instead, carving away at his skin and tearing open the fabric of his shirt there. His eyes went wide when he felt the bite of the metal dig in deep, rending apart muscle and tissue with a viscous sound, hot blood immediately staining the grey of his shirt and the couch where it dripped. 

Topher only laughed, looking down at what damage he'd caused, at the blood drenched blade in his hand, and stood up straight. He didn't want to kill Chris McLean. No, he'd only meant to show him the real Topher experience, hadn't he? And there was so much more to show... 

His reverie was interrupted when he heard the rapid shuffle of feet approaching the door. No doubt someone had heard Chris's scream. He really should've thought ahead, perhaps gagged him. He stood up straight, dropped his blood-stained weapon, and headed straight for the nearest window, feet leaving stains on the carpet. He would be fine, as long as he could get out in time before whoever that was got in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you liked this, my blog is striderfvcker.tumblr.com
> 
> My SFW ao3 account is http://archiveofourown.org/users/striderfvcker/pseuds/striderfvcker
> 
> and if you feel like buying me a coffee: [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A850LD4)


End file.
